


There Used To Be A Lightness

by eveljerome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awesome Molly Weasley, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Looking For a Job, H/D Food Fair 2018, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Job Interviews Are The Worst, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Slash, Restaurants, Sous-Chef Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveljerome/pseuds/eveljerome
Summary: Down on his luck, Draco Malfoy is trying to find a job. It proves more than unsuccessful. Molly Weasley, with all kids now grown up, is trying to start a restaurant. That proves more successful, and makes them cross paths. Harry Potter, running away from memories of the war, returns to London three years later to discover exactly how things have changed.





	There Used To Be A Lightness

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[51](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit): After the war, Molly follows in her sons' footsteps and opens a business of her own. She can't stand being home alone--the kids are grown and Arthur's never been busier at the Ministry--and she needs to keep busy or her grief over Fred might swallow her. What does Molly do? She cooks, so a restaurant is the perfect business to open. (Could also be a bakery, if you'd prefer.) Harry and Draco can be involved in any way you want. Draco can work there, maybe as sort of her sous-chef or assistant, or maybe he grows produce on the Malfoy grounds and sells to her. Harry can fund it, or maybe he may work there, or maybe he develops a hobby of baking bread after the war and provides the bread for her. 
> 
> Beta: [PalenDrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome) thank you <3
> 
> This turned out to be shorter than I expected, oops, but I like how it turned out. At some point, if I get inspired, I might write a follow up fic!

~~  
Draco read avidly about everything Harry Potter was doing in the Daily Prophet. Not the smartest choice, sure, but it was still a source of information to be utilised, even if it had to be taken with a grain of salt. Or several.

Potter had made appearances in several wizarding establishments, funding the small businesses run by various friends. Hannah Abbott had taken over the Leaky Cauldron. Ron Weasley had joined George at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Luna Lovegood and the Quibbler, and many more.

The last time Draco had seen Harry in person was at his own trial. He never had the chance to thank him for it, and a little voice whispered that he never would—never would have the chance or guts to say the words.

His father was sentenced to death for his crimes during Voldemort’s reign, his mother sentenced to three years in Azkaban, their vaults emptied, and the Manor seized. He could have left for abroad, started his life over, but Draco didn’t want that option, saying that he would forge a life here, without running away scared.

That had proved to be much harder than he had anticipated. Some went as far as laughter at his presence and slammed doors in his face. At least no one had had the bright idea to attack him in the middle of Diagon Alley.

He was pulling on the thin string of Pansy’s patience, shacking up in her spare room, trying to not get underfoot, knowing her parents fully expected them to wed, even if the Malfoy name was disgraced.

Unfortunately for her parents, and fortunately for the two of them, they were both attracted to their own genders. Sure, they were good at playacting, draping themselves over each other at school and at dinners, whenever Draco would join them all.

But as often happens, things change, and the entire Parkinson family was moving away, to France.

Draco could not be angry at them, even if he resented their chance at continuing their life away from wizarding London. Then again, none of them had signed away their lives to become Death Eaters. None of them bore the Mark, which thankfully had faded and no longer hurt. Not that he would get caught out in short sleeves.

For the next two months, he hopped from couch to couch, looking for work, for someone to hire him.

Which is how he ran into Teddy and Andromeda.

Dejected and miserable, he was leaning against a lamppost, ripping the wanted ad into tiny, little pieces and littering the ground with them, creating a little sad Christmas for himself. He still had to wait a few months until the actual holiday, but he wasn’t seeing his future self in a better situation, so better to mourn it now.

“Draco?”

He looked up, startled, blinking the tears out of his eyes. The person who stood before him was his mother’s sister, the one that had disgraced the family by marrying a Muggle. Although, considering that the Malfoys had done enough to disgrace their own name, marrying a Muggle seemed like nothing.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking the tears out of his eyes, Draco took a step away form the lamppost, trampling all over the parchment pieces he had littered the ground with. Andromeda resembled his mother so much, but also had Bellatrix’s features. She held a toddler in her arms, who was trying to look in all directions at the same time, reaching for something with his tiny hands.

“Not really.” Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. What possessed him to say the truth instead of platitudes, he wasn’t sure. But now it was out there, gaining weight. There was no undoing that moment of honesty and weakness in front of someone who had every right to hate him.

“Draco. I’m sorry about your father.”

That brought him up short, making him almost stumble on the level ground. Blinking some more, he said, “I figured you would say ‘good riddance.’”

“He was still your father, no matter how much of a monster he was.” She wore a compassionate look, bridging the distance that separated them and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a bit.

“I...I don’t know what to say. Thank you seems wholly inappropriate.” With a wry smile, Draco shook his head, appreciating the little kindness someone had decided he deserved today.

“Rightly so.”

Nodding, Draco stepped sideways, bunching his back, and shoving his hands in his pockets. It was a move his past self would never have deigned to do, but his present self knew all kinds of body poses that brought him the least amount of attention in a crowd. Slouching worked far better than he expected. “And who is this?” He was unsure, but had his suspicions of whose kid this was.

“This is Teddy. My grandson, which makes you his cousin, does it not?” Andromeda turned to let Teddy face him; the kid had squirmed away already, looking at something far more interesting than the two adults in front of him.

“Hey, Teddy.” Draco smiled, feeling rather awkward. His own lack of siblings showed. He knew he would just pat Teddy on the head if he started to suddenly cry.

“Haaaaaaii,” the kid yelled back, turning back to whatever was happening over Andromeda's shoulder as he looked away from Draco. Clearly, he wasn’t interesting enough to observe more.

“He’s curious about the world, but when something takes his interest, it's hard to make him focus on other things.” Andromeda smiled and kissed Teddy’s head, while his hands kept reaching, bunching up her shirt collar.

“I’m just boring to him,” Draco smiled, shrugging.

“Perhaps another time, you could be the most interesting thing for him,” Andromeda suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Draco was ready to deny that ‘another time’ would happen, to say that he didn’t have a place to invite them to. He was in no way ready to confess that he was practically homeless, travelling with one semi-bottomless chest from one friend’s couch to another.

“Perhaps. I’m just not sure—” He didn’t get to finish his excuse before Andromeda butt in.

“You need to visit us. You are family. And family needs to stick together.” She didn’t mention Narcissa, or the fact that she was in Azkaban for another two-and-a-half more years.

“Of course.”

 

~~

Draco still wasn’t sure how he ended up here. All he knew was that there was Molly Weasley, with a sympathetic look, handing him a cup of tea. Breathing the warmth from the cup in his hands was bliss, and Draco could finally relax. 

The list of mortifying things that had happened today was this: he had fallen asleep on Andromeda’s couch the night before, slightly tipsy, and had confessed that he didn’t have a home to return to; he confessed that no one would hire him, ever, which led to the most awkward breakfast he had ever experienced, and he had shared meal times with the Dark Lord, which was saying a lot.

Later, with a scheming look on her face, Andromeda had given him the ad for Molly Weasley’s new restaurant, which called for workers. Draco had scoffed at it (but remembered the address) and tossed it away, saying he would never stoop so low as to work with one of the Weasleys. 

This set up had lead him to today’s job interview, which he got kicked out—as in literally kicked out, first with something thrown hitting his back and then a hex thrown after him for good measure. After a colorful array of curses, he had ambled down the street to where incidentally Molly Weasley’s new restaurant was located, and the owner herself was standing near the door, seeing his humiliation.

This couldn't be real. Draco was ready to follow Pansy to France. There was bound to be there someone who didn’t care about the Malfoy name—someone with more money than brains, and in search of someone to warm their bed.

He had had to slow down, to regain his breath, to try and come to a decision. It could not go on as it had, but taking drastic steps to leave the country wasn’t a good option either. Closing his eyes for a moment, Draco had inhaled, before steadying himself and looking up at Molly Weasley. “I heard you are looking for people to hire.” Not really a question, but he wasn’t expecting it to bring him here, with a cup of tea and a tentative job offer.

“Is this for real?” Draco had to ask once more, looking over the rim of his cup. It was warming his hands, at least, lessening the overall feeling of being embarrassed as hell.

“Someone owes you a second chance, so why can’t it be me?” Molly winked. And that unsettled him some more.

“I don’t think that’s wise. You do know there’s a chance that people won’t eat here.”

“Hush; drink your tea,” Molly added, motioning towards the biscuits on the plate before pouring herself more tea.

“This is the most unusual job interview I’ve ever had.” Draco tried muttering under his breath, but didn’t succeed. He saw Molly frown, putting her cup, undrunk, back on the table.

“That, my dear, is because this is how a job interview is supposed to go. And what I saw down the street—that was wrong.” She paused, contemplative “I will not be consider it a place I should order supplies from.” After another moment of thought, Molly reached for her cup, with a look that put Draco to caution in all his future dealings with here; it was a smile with plans intertwined, with ideas and set ups. “That will be your first task. Finding me some new suppliers.”

“What?” Draco exclaimed, almost choking on the tea. Tea wasn’t supposed to go where it went. Lungs shouldn’t be drinking tea at all.

“I’m hiring you. As my assistant in setting up this place, and then—running it.”

Draco could only stare. Was this real? Was he awake? Things like this just didn’t happen to the Malfoys. No one was bought off, no one was threatened, but here he was, with a job he didn’t even ask for, offered to him. 

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Draco figured only people on the winning side of the war could be this genuinely altruistic. But perhaps it was something inherent in the Weasley’s, something he had never considered.

“Say, ‘Thank you, Molly, I accept, and this cup of tea is wonderful.’ That should be right.” Molly smiled at him, sipping her tea in contentment.

“Thank you, Molly, I accept, and this cup of tea is truly wonderful and—thank you. For giving me this chance,” Draco parroted back, blushing at his own final words.

 

~~

It didn’t take long for Molly to sniff out that he had nowhere to stay at nights. Maybe she and Andromeda were friendly, but Draco thought she was just smart and observant enough—after seven kids, that should be a given.

And now, he had the dubious pleasure of being on the restaurant's night watch. Diagon Alley had night guards, and the building had plenty of magical security, courtesy of the many Weasleys and Granger, so it was mostly a formality that he had to to guard it.

What Molly intended was for Draco to convert one of the second floor offices into a guest room and sleep. Molly Weasley paid him to sleep at night. Yet another thing to be embarrassed for in his short, but probably never ending, acquaintance with her.

His run-ins with various Weasleys so far had amounted to neutral stares and sighs of ‘why mom?’ towards Molly. Granger was polite to him, once even getting him to open up about a book he was reading. Apparently, Granger was secretly obsessed with queer Hitwizard adventures and sexual mishaps, just like him. Draco couldn’t really picture her discussing them with anyone else, least of all her husband (and he rather didn’t picture that at all).

As Molly Weasley’s assistant, Draco had managed to piss off a number of people, but also got them to sign all the paperwork involved, and the restaurant now had suppliers of all kinds. If only the cheese importers weren’t so full of themselves, and would cave in to his demands.

He was surprisingly good at people-wrangling, when he finally felt in a position of power and after getting enough good night’s sleep in an actual bed, instead of someone’s couch. 

Draco was treated to various levels of success at breakfast—the hired cooks were working out the kinks in the menu, and he got to taste whatever they had come up with. The omelet with everything, and bacon was always spot on, but that apple mash in place of a salad, umm, no thank you.

On some mornings, he would grab a spare apron and help them, copying their knife movements, or the way they stirred. Molly usually joined him in trying the foods, and kept shooting him very interesting looks, which grew bigger when she tried his savoury dish of salmon and sides.

It didn’t take long until his name tag had another title: Draco Malfoy, Sous Chef.

 

~~  
Three years later

Harry Potter was back in London. Draco knew this because the rest of the kitchen staff were damn gossips, and wouldn’t relent. Supposedly, Potter was ‘fit and sunkissed’ from his travels.

It didn’t take long for an issue of the Daily Prophet to wind up in his hands. Potter was looking good in the pictures, Draco couldn’t deny that. There was an array of photos, some with Granger and several other Weasleys, as well as a number of other Hogwarts graduates and the Diagon Alley shop owners, who Draco knew Potter was bankrolling. Yet, there hadn’t been a picture of the restaurant, or of Potter with Molly. And that was troubling.

Because—eventually—he would be here, in Draco’s space. Where Draco had carved out a living, with a comfortable job, and with people who tolerated him (and, on some days, even liked him). And now Potter was back. Would he want to have oversight in the restaurant? Start changing things? Perhaps even fire Draco?

A little voice whispered that Molly would never allow that, and an even smaller one said that Potter would never do that.

But the little voice was being drowned out by panic. 

Draco kept staring at the Prophet, so that no one approached his moody thoughts.

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Molly bustle into the kitchen, all smiles. Draco raised his head, wondering why Potter had left on the three-year, leaving-everything-behind journey in the first place. Molly came over and completely distracted his worries about Potter by asking after Teddy.

Teddy is a topic Draco can talk about a lot, and under any circumstance. He was the most important person in Draco’s life right now, and at four years old, is a rascal that would take over London if someone let him. 

A year-and-a-half ago, he had moved from restaurant’s second floor guestroom to Andromeda’s, to help out with Teddy. While Draco initially feared that he wouldn’t know the first thing about how to care for a child, he discovered that Andromeda taught him enough, and that most things came somewhat instinctually.

Six months ago, Narcissa had been released from Azkaban, and was now living with the three of them, having reconciled with her sister.

After twenty minutes of talking about what Teddy was up to, Draco noticed Molly’s subtle smile, realizing that his panic was gone and that there was no way Molly would ever fire him if Harry Potter didn’t like it. Potter might be bankrolling this enterprise, but the restaurant was a success on its own, and they made enough money to not be dependant on his sponsorship.

 

~~

He knew the exact moment Harry Potter stepped into the restaurant. There’s that feeling of anticipation, or suspense that’s about ready to break.

Draco stayed firmly in the kitchen, prodding two people who were trying to snog one another behind the shelf into returning back to work. They blushed and pled with their eyes not to reveal their secret. He sighed and nodded, shooing them back to their stations.

Unwittingly, he pictured himself and Potter, kissing behind that same shelf, before shaking his head at the fantasy. There was no way that would happen. There were sightings and rumours during Potter’s three-year travels, most of which amounted to nothing. Potter hadn’t been seen on people’s arms, of any genders. 

Meanwhile, the girl Weasley, who Draco had once teasingly called Ginevra (only his agility had saved him from that Bat Boogey Hex) had moved in with Dean Thomas and was expecting twins. Draco guessed that might have prodded the elusive Potter into returning home, instead of Molly’s ‘Harry settling into his life and feeling better’.

Draco was very much aware that it took more time than three years to ‘get over’ the War’s losses and horrors. 

Knowing Potter was in the restaurant, Draco decided to do nothing. Doing absolutely nothing was the safest path—he wasn’t calling attention to himself, shutting himself in the kitchen instead and staying out of the way. He had no idea how much Potter knew about him working here, or how close he was to all the Weasley clan, and what Potter might think about that. 

But that didn’t stop Draco from spying on Potter when the kitchen doors swung open and shut. He was definitely fit and sun-kissed, Draco could not deny that. The pictures in the paper didn’t do him justice.

The evening meal went smoothly; Draco putting in extra effort to be sure that everything was as fresh and tasty as possible. He noticed the guests leaving one after the other, until it was only Molly and Potter left. 

The outer door opened and shut once more. Draco relaxed, cleaning up his station, humming under his breath. It was just him and the restaurant now. Cleaning and locking up was a good way to end the day. 

He was gazing out the back window, following an owl as it swooped and hopped across a roof, eating a leftover cake when suddenly the kitchen door opened, startling him.

Subconsciously he already knew who it was, but the sudden shock still made him toss the half-eaten cake at the intruder’s face.

“Bugger,” Draco cursed under his breath, clutching the empty plate to his apron, looking aghast at Harry Potter as cake smeared across his chin and his lovely-looking, dark sweater.

“Hello to you too, Malfoy.”

Rooted in place, Draco felt unsettled, as if something frozen had stuck his feet to the ground. “Um...” 

“Relax; everything’s alright.” With a twitch of his fingers, Potter vanished the cake’s traces

“I’m sorry,” Draco finally said, meaning it in more ways than just the cake in Potter’s face. The War, his nastiness in school, everything. “I’m so sorry.” He had apologised for many things after the War to many people, getting used to the humility, but apologising to Potter seemed more real.

“It really is alright.” Potter murmured genuinely, taking a step closer and extending his hand. Draco flashed back to their first year, on the stairs before the Sorting, when it was he who had extend his hand to Potter. So many terrible things had happened in between. But a clean slate? That seemed too optimistic. A new beginning? Perhaps they could pull that off.

“Alright.” Draco echoed Potter’s words, taking a step of his own, closing the gap between them, grasping the hand and giving it a firm shake. For a moment, he felt like he could pull Potter into a hug, but it ended too soon and they let go of each other.

 

~~  
After the cake encounter, Potter kept showing up at the restaurant again and again. Mostly, he kept to the public rooms, meeting with various people like the Weasleys and other people he was bankrolling in their ventures. He soon took over a table by the back window, which soon became affixed with a ‘reserved’ sign that was never taken off.

Draco had spelled the other side of it to say ‘Potter’s office,’ expecting some choice words from the man himself, but getting only laughter for it. And the sign more often than not was placed with the office inscription towards the restaurant side, for everyone to see.

Potter frequently came to the kitchen in the evenings, mostly to tease Draco about something, but also to share recipes from his travels. It soon evolved into a challenge for Draco to make them, which he relished. One-upping Potter and showing off his kitchen skills was something Draco wasn’t about to pass up. 

They both decided never to speak about the disaster cookies from hell, when they almost burned down the kitchen while attempting to make them, but all other recipes were a resounding success.

When Harry—and when exactly he became Harry, Draco couldn’t say—ran out of travel recipes, he started looking up intricate and weird Muggle recipes, challenging Draco to make them as well. 

In between all that, they kept flirting and jesting with each other, unaware of anything but the other person—moving towards each other, until they were kissing. Harry pushed Draco against the counter, squeezing his sides, running hands up and down his back, messing up the lovely blond hair that had grown much longer than at school.

Draco felt finally at home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/145916.html).


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